


Apologies to Mrs. Dugnutt

by SkazuhiraMiller



Category: Metal Gear
Genre: Banter, Canon Compliant Awful Fanfic Tropes, Comedy, Cowsplaining, Fake Dating, Gratuitous Car Repair, His Name Is Bobson Dugnutt, M/M, Ocelot is a Thirsty Fuck, Ocelot's E rank in R&D, Xmas Supply Drop 2017, completely fabricated infidelity, haha no ass Ocelot, sick burns, what do you mean they share a bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-25
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2019-02-20 12:23:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13146627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SkazuhiraMiller/pseuds/SkazuhiraMiller
Summary: The year is 1977. "Diamond Dogs" doesn't really exist, but if Ocelot and Kaz can rip off these Argentinian communists it will. There's just one problem. The client is onto them. Kaz invents his worst cover story yet. What happens next will warm your heart.





	Apologies to Mrs. Dugnutt

**Author's Note:**

> Done for MGS Supply Drop 2017 Wish #35, "fake dating!! ocelot and kaz having to fake a relationship for some reason and using it as an opportunity to each annoy the hell out of each other while the other is forced to play along"  
> I had a ton of fun writing this and I hope the wisher enjoys it too! Sorry for the awful summary I am being dragged away to Christmas dinner.
> 
> Fun fact: I did this fic in defiance of God, who struck me with a concussion while I was in the middle of writing the Car Repair Scene. Like literally I hit my head minutes after I wrote the first part of it. 
> 
> Update: Now with Fanart at the end!

Miller peels the rental car out of the rental place’s driveway onto the main street. _Skrrrt._ The tires protest the sudden increase in friction. Ocelot watches as his files slide across his lap in a perfect demonstration of inertia. He glares over at Miller. He's honestly surprised this piece of shit car can _accelerate_ like that. Miller insisted on the cheapest one. “We can treat ourselves _after_ we land this deal,” he said. Ocelot swore he could hear the thing rattle when it started up but Miller insisted it's alright, aren't all the cars in your country like this anyways?

Ocelot takes his sweet time straightening out the files. “You know where we're going, right?”

“What did you think I was doing with the map this whole time? Drawing pretty pictures?”

“Maybe. It's a distinct possibility.”

“Fuck you.” Miller fiddles with the knobs on the air conditioner. It blows out hot air that smells musty. Ocelot holds back a sneeze.

“You think the AC works in the Shitmobile?”

“ _It's a distinct possibility_ ” Miller says in his best exaggerated Ocelot drawl. Already, Miller?

“So what's the plan, _Boss_?” Since he knows everything it's his title, right? Ocelot watches Miller scowl.

“ _Don't._ My name for this operation is Sanders. Benedict Sanders. That's the name this Argentinian People's Front group knows me as.”

“Whatever you say, _Benny._ ” He sees Miller  twitch.

“ _Anyway_ , the plan is we’re going to meet with their leader at the rendezvous point and we’re gonna sell them those weapons we acquired as if they’re not all knockoffs.”

“Full price?”

“As full as we can manage. I’ve worked with these guys before. They seem like they drive a tough deal at first but they can be… talked down.”

“And according to my files they’re coming to us in the height of desperation,” Ocelot says, as a matter of fact.

“Is that so?”

“Yes. The Argentinian People's Front has gone through a lot since you last worked with them. Mainly, they've been having a really hard time against The Argentinian Liberation Front.”

“Nationalists?”

“No. They're leftists too.”

“Then… don’t they want the same thing?”

“Not…. exactly. Since you last worked with them they split into two groups. The People’s Front and the Liberation Front. Says here they splintered due to _irreconcilable ideological differences_ . Liberation Front doesn't believe in the dictatorship of the proletariat… To that I say _good luck with your revolution._ ” Ocelot says, sarcasm abounding.

Miller stares back blankly.

“The only thing that communists hate more than capitalists are other communists with different ideas.”

Miller laughs. “Whatever you say, _comrade_ ”

So Ocelot was right. The AC doesn’t work in the Shitmobile. Resigned, Miller turns it off and cranks down his window. The air rushes in through the window and makes a loud vibrating sound. _WUWUWUWUWUWU_. Miller glances over, eyes narrowed, at Ocelot. What’s that? Miller wants him to roll down the window? Ocelot smiles like he’s enjoying the deafening roar. Ocelot moves his right hand. Towards the handle. He sees Miller’s eyes dart over behind his sunglasses. He rests his hand on the arm rest. He hears Miller exhale. He’s almost cute when he’s annoyed. He places his hand on the window crank. He absentmindedly spins the knob with his index finger.

“ _Ocelot._ ” Oh, he’s done it _now_ . Miller’s tone is positively _irritated_.

“Yes?” Ocelot says, radiating the innocence of a child. A child who just poured his mom’s entire bottle of expensive perfume on the cat.

“Would you like to stop being an asshole?”

“Not particularly.” He pauses for effect. “But if you meant would I like to roll down the window--”

“Yes. Roll down the window.”

“Or what?”  
  
“Or I’ll fucking do it myself and risk veering off into that cow pasture over there.” His voice takes on a sad tone and a vague drawl. “Please don’t do that to Ol’ Bessie.”

“You know, Miller, actually, a car like this, once it lost speed from crashing through the fence and veering uphill, probably wouldn’t do too much damage to a bovine of that size-”

Miller lifts his right hand up, threatening. “You wanna find out?”

“Alright, _alright._ ” Ocelot concedes and rolls down the window. The roar subsides to a constant, low _whoosh_. The climate of the car is stable. Okay, so this is a lot nicer. Whatever, Miller.

Ocelot lets himself zone out as the acres of countryside pass by set to the soundtrack of staticky Latin music playing over the car stereo from some local radio station. It’s not often he gets to do this. Not often he gets to let his guard down. What’s the worst thing Miller could do? As if to answer, the car lurches down and up with a loud _thonk_ followed by Miller’s swearing. “Piece of shit fucking _road_.” A particularly bad pothole. The infrastructure out here isn’t the best. Ocelot makes a mental note to crack some stupid jokes if Miller’s still this grumpy when they get there. Maybe bust out the Big Boss impression if it won’t trigger any bad memories. Can’t have him like this walking into this deal.  

Ocelot doesn’t know how long it’s been since he phased out thinking of shit he could make fun of John for. But he _does_ know that there is… smoke? steam? coming out of the front of the Shitmobile. Miller says “fuck” and pulls over. He gets out to investigate, muttering something about being late. Don’t worry, Miller. Can’t be late with the way he _drives_. Ocelot turns his attention to his files again. Might as well go back over these if they’re gonna be here a while. Let’s see, the People’s Front started out in 1972, when-

“Ocelot.” Ocelot looks up to see Miller standing on the side of the road, sans shirt, tie, and jacket, with his hands starting to work on his belt. “Aren’t you going to help me?”

“Help you- with _what?_ ” Ocelot stammers out. _~~Not~~ that belt, _ he hopes. _Pull yourself together, Adamska. That's no proper thing to be thinking about John's accountant-gone-wild._

Miller, as if he were not currently stripping down to his boxers, says, “The Shitmobile. You know. The thing that just started steaming?”

“… right. What are you doing?”  

“I’m not gonna risk getting motor oil or something on my clothes. This is a _business_ deal.”

And with that, Miller’s gone. Ocelot’s spurs jingle as he swings his feet out of the car. Miller insisted he not wear those because, “for fuck’s sake, we’re conducting business, not a goddamn rodeo,” but Ocelot annoyed him into submission. Even if Miller originally locked him out of the car and said “Why don’t you _ride a horse_ there, _Mr. Eastwood?_ ” Miller eventually unlocked the car when Ocelot pointed out that he was the one with the map.

Ocelot exits the car just in time to watch Miller pop the hood. Miller steps back to avoid the cloud of steam that rises from the overheated engine. Some of it still condenses on his face, chest, and sunglasses, which he pushes up onto his forehead. _Don’t look at-_ it’s too late. ~~He’s already looking~~. Look, it’s not Ocelot’s fault the droplets are so _shiny_ and _God,_ they highlight how he looks just like those beach photos from Miller’s file that Ocelot ~~_totally_ _hadn’t_~~ made copies of. Except now he’s got burn scars across the left side of his torso. From the helicopter crash, presumably. Or maybe MSF’s campfire parties got a little rowdier than Ocelot had been lead to believe. If Ocelot had to be honest though, he thought the scars added character to p-

“Ocelot.” _Shit._ Ocelot’s gaze snaps up to Miller’s eyes, which are still intently focused on the Shitmobile’s guts. Miller extends his hand and gestures toward the toolbox on the ground. “Can you hand me the wrench?” Ocelot obeys.

“ _Ocelot_ .” Now Miller turns to him, holding out the tool, squinting. “This is a pressure gauge. I want the _wrench_.” He points unmistakably.

“Oh,” says Ocelot, offering him the wrench and a blank stare. He meets Miller’s eyes. They are ~~pretty, and~~ concerned.

“You doing alright? You look really flushed. Maybe ditch the blazer… or at least the gloves?”

“Excuse me? I’m perfectly capable of regulating my own body temperature, _Miller_.”

“Oh, so is that why you’re always wearing that scarf and those gloves and sweating profusely?” Miller rolls his eyes.“Howdy y’all! Kaz is _soooo_ dumb for not wanting me to die of heatstroke!”

“Actually, heatstroke is-”

“Can it, encyclopedia, I’m _working.”_ Miller turns his attention back to the car and Ocelot shuts up as bidden, for once. Not because he’s looking at Miller’s arms while he does... whatever he’s doing. That would be stupid ~~but _goddamn that definition._ He’s definitely not staring at Miller’s ass while he’s bent over the car like some kind of dirty old man.~~

Miller appears satisfied with his work and puts his clothes and sunglasses back on. “I’m just gonna have to take it easy on this piece of shit the whole way there and back,” he says, and then turns to Ocelot. “How do I look?”

“Like an absolute tool, as always,” Ocelot says without missing a beat. He straightens Miller’s tie for him. He notices some grease smudged across Miller's left cheekbone ~~, perfectly highlighting it~~. He gestures to that spot on himself. “You’ve got something right here.”

“Like a true _proletariat,_ huh?” Miller attempts to wipe it off with a finger he just put in his mouth with little success.

Ocelot laughs ~~and wrenches his eyes off Miller’s lips.~~ Let him get all the bad communist jokes out of his system. “Let me help you out.” Ocelot produces a tissue from his pocket. He lifts Miller’s sunglasses and gently cleans off the smudge. Doesn’t look at his eyes even once. ~~Okay, maybe once.~~ “Got it.” He withdraws.

Miller smiles. “Thanks.”

They get back into the car. It starts without protest. Miller is humming a little tune. Guess he just needed to feel smug to be back in a good mood.

 

===

 

They finally make it to the People’s Front’s small facility in one piece. Miraculously, by Ocelot’s estimations. Miller kept saying “it’s fine, it’s fine” driving over the hill on the narrow dirt offshoot road, but Ocelot could see the way he kept checking the water temperature and hear the way he sounded like he was fighting with the Shitmobile every step of the way. But they were there, and they were on time, according to Miller glancing at his Rolex. Which. Speaking of.

“Shouldn’t you take that off?”

“Excuse me?”  
  
“Your watch. That’s straight up _bourgeois decadence_.”

“I thought you hated the French, Ocelot.”

“I'm saying our clients might not appreciate such… excess.”

Kaz clicks the clasp of the watch open, removes it, and pockets it. “Okay, _comrade_ . But in that case, don’t you think those boots and spurs-” he affects a bad Russian accent,  “make you look like _filthy American pig-dog._ ”  

Ocelot laughs. “It shakes up their expectations. Makes you appear more credible than I am.”

 

===

 

They walk into what appears to be the facility’s lobby, if you could call it that. Kaz eyes the folding table that serves as a front desk. Damn, Ocelot wasn’t fucking around. They really are hurting since that last deal. He puts his hands down on the table all confident-like. The sleepy twentysomething manning the front desk snaps up at the sound and looks at him.

“May I help you?”

“We’re here to see Campos about the arms deal.”

“You’re Sanders, then?”

“None other.”  Ocelot doesn’t say anything and lets Kaz do the talking for _once_.

“That’ll be in Room 24, around back and to the left.” She gestures to match her words.

Kaz says “Thanks” and he’s already off. He turns to Ocelot as they walk. “If everything goes like I think we’ll be in and out. They need this a lot more than we do -- that’s the line.” Ocelot nods. It’s simple shit, really. Hard to fuck up, especially for Diamond Dogs’ top negotiators. Well. Only negotiators. Okay. Only current members. But this deal is gonna change that all. Kaz lets that carry him into Room 24.

Kaz opens the door and lets himself in. Ocelot follows closely. A large man who looks to be in his mid-forties with patchy, graying facial hair smiles warmly and stands up to greet him.

“If it isn’t Ben Sanders! How have you been? Come in, have a seat.” Campos takes them over to two folding tables pushed together. Campos takes his seat next to a woman Kaz doesn’t recognize. Ocelot and Kaz take their seats on the other side of the tables. Kaz, not to be outdone, turns to Ocelot and gestures to Campos.

“This is Antonio Campos, the guy I worked with last time.” He turns to Campos, “And this is my partner, Bobson Dugnutt.” He doesn’t even flinch when Ocelot kicks him under the table. He turns his attention to the woman. Early 30s. Looks like she hasn’t smiled in a decade.

Campos cuts in. “This is Angela Ruiz. The Front doesn’t make deals these days without going through her. Ruiz, this is Benedict Sanders and Bobson Dugnutt. Sanders got us all those rifles back in ‘73.” Kaz reaches across the table, shakes her hand, and gives her the most charming smile he can muster. Not impressed, huh? That’s alright, Kazuhira Miller Brand Razzle Dazzle doesn’t work on everyone. She shakes Ocelot’s hand. Is that- a hint of suspicion in her eyes? Oh. Nothing they can’t deal with.

Ruiz looks bored as she slides the term sheet over to Kaz and Ocelot’s side. Kaz looks it over. Are they fucking kidding? Lowball central. He looks over at Ocelot like, are you fucking seeing this? He is fucking seeing this.

“With all due respect,” Kaz’s tone is amiable but firm, “these are worth almost twice what you have down here.”

“You have a point, Ben,” Campos says, and looks down, “but we can’t afford much right now. We had to sell the helicopter recently. Money’s been tight.” _Ouch_. The helicopter had been the pride and joy of The Front, far as Kaz could tell from last time he was there.

Ruiz adds, “Those Liberation bastards took a lot of our cash and assets when they betrayed us. We can do ten thousand more at most.” Kaz lets a hint of dissatisfaction show in his countenance. Ocelot recognizes the signal. It’s time for Bad Cop.

“May I remind you that without this deal you’re as good as part of the Liberation Front, with no defenses against them?”

Ruiz is not happy. “Do you mean to pit us against each other, _Dugnutt?_ ” Kaz has never heard such a silly name said with such venom in his life and has to stop himself from smiling. This is _serious._

“You mistake me. I just mean to state a fact, miss. If my info is correct, this would mean replenishing much of the arsenals they pulled out from under you. I take it it’s worth it to get those _authoritarian sympathizers_ out of your ranks, is it not?” Killin’ it with those fancy big communist words Ocelot, huh?

“Fine. 15 thousand more.”

“Y’know, Sanders and I didn’t come here to give you this deal out of the goodness of our hearts. We intend to actually make money off this deal. It’s going to have to be at least 50.”

Ocelot and Ruiz go back and forth this way for a while. Kaz monitors, ready to intervene. She’s not satisfied with something. Kaz can see it in her face. Campos watches intently but doesn’t seem to see whatever she sees. He seems pretty convinced every time it’s Ocelot’s turn to talk. Despite all that, it seems they’ve built some kind of rapport. Well. Right up until she almost starts getting heated over “quality assurance” and then she leans back. Tries to make it look like she’s got them cornered. Or. Fuck. Does she?

“Is there something… else you’d like to tell us about?”

“What do you mean?” Ocelot sounds offended but maintains his calm.

“Are you two, perhaps, hiding something?”

Well, fuck. Kaz looks around for a moment and silently says a quick prayer to whatever might be listening because this, well, this is either his worst plan or his best plan yet.

He puts his hands up. “Bobby. She knows.” He pauses for a second to let that sink in, before continuing. “We really didn’t want anyone to know because… well... If his wife finds out she’ll kill me but… We’re eloping.. Me and Bobson. We need this money to start a new life together.”

Ocelot nods, looking down like he’s embarrassed. “It’s true. If I have to be honest, it really was love at first sight. When I first met Benny he was a rentboy on the streets. He came up to my car when I was meeting a contract client in the red light district and well… I knew when I saw him he was destined for something greater. I ended up giving him a job at my military contracting company. But after a while I just couldn’t live the lie anymore.. The shady deals… going behind my wife’s back to see my true love…” he turns to Kaz with a loving smile.

Kaz meets his eyes with a dreamy gaze. “We're starting over. Gonna buy a house out in the mountains…”

“And a diamond wedding ring that's as beautiful as my Benny,” Ocelot finishes, sliding his hand over Kaz's and squeezing it.

Kaz's other hand flies to his mouth to cover up a laugh. He's _too good._ Kaz wills his face to go red. “You're - you're too much, Bobby” he stammers. His eyes flick back to the clients like he just remembered they were there.

Ruiz looks disgusted and, honestly, Kaz can't blame her. That was _sappy_ as fuck. Disgust is better than suspicion, though. Campos, on the other hand, well. Kaz is almost sorry he can't invite him to their wedding.

“Anyway, uh, back to the matter at hand,” says Kaz, hoping he looks as flushed as he’s trying to come off, “We’ve heard reports of violence from the splinter group and other developing groups spreading even further. You used to have a strong hold on this whole region but now,” he makes a sweeping gesture with his hand, “it’s slipping. In fact, we’re actually currently looking for somewhere to stay. We had a hotel booked in Patancillo but we’ve gotten reports of firebombings happening. Whole town isn’t safe. It’s now or never for you guys.”

“The tides of conflict turn and you won’t be able to stop it unless you have the right tools,” Ocelot adds, “and y’all don’t have a whole lot of time left.”

Ruiz looks down and sighs. Opens her mouth and closes it again. Campos intervenes. “Maybe it would be good if we all took 10 minutes… Have a smoke, discuss between ourselves. I'm really sorry to hear about your hotel room. I'll reserve you another one in a safer area for your trouble.”

Kaz places his hand over Ocelot's this time so he won't raise it and try to refuse. It's free lodging and it would be rude to argue.

Kaz nods. “Fine by us. Thank you for your kindness. We know it's not easy out here.” He grasps Ocelot's hand as he stands up. “Let's go, honey.”

Ocelot doesn't drop his hand and they exit the room. They walk across the hallway.

“Were you trying to get us killed in there with that little story of yours?” Ocelot hisses.

“Don't worry about that. These guys don't get murdery over that kind of thing. I know this because last time we cut a deal ol’ Campos _propositioned_ me afterward.”

“Did you do it?”

Kaz smiles. “I don't kiss and tell.”

“Yes, you do.”

“Alright, alright. I didn't. Because the contract was already signed and frankly, he's pretty weird-looking. But now,” he runs an affectionate hand through Ocelot’s hair, “I have a darling fiance.”

Ocelot shakes his head. “I can’t believe this is actually working.”

“I can’t believe you made me a _rentboy_ . Although, you _left your wife_ for this rentboy so who’s the joke really on?”

Kaz looks past Ocelot and sees- _shit._ Ruiz is looking straight at them, watching them whisper. Not suspicious at all. He wills her to go outside. Have a smoke or something, lady. It’ll take off that edge. She’s not going anywhere. If they move now it’ll be even more suspicious.

Ocelot opens his mouth to make some sort of quip. Sorry, Ocelot. Kaz hooks his arm around Ocelot’s waist and pulls him into a soft kiss before he can say anything. Kaz has to hand it to him, the noise Ocelot makes in response is _Academy-Award winning_ but he’s pretty sure Ruiz is out of earshot. Kaz silently thanks the universe for his sunglasses that let him open his eyes now without it being weird. She’s still looking. Kaz breaks it off and buries his face in his fiance’s neck. He slides his hand from the small of Ocelot’s back down, down until he’s got a handful of nonexistent ass. He looks up behind the sunglasses. Ruiz grimaces and walks away. _Bingo._

He pulls back to a normal distance.

“What was _that_?” Ocelot is in-character enough to be flushed red as his gloves. Kaz has to admit he's actually quite pretty when he's all red like this, looking down in embarrassment, long lashes in full effect. Wouldn't mind kissing him again. 

“Ruiz was looking at us all suspicious. I had to gross her out. Don’t flatter yourself, cowboy. You’re as assless as those chaps you love so much.”

Even Ocelot has to laugh at that one. “I’m gonna go see if this dump has a bathroom. Farewell, my love,” he says, letting go of Kaz’s hand with a dramatic flourish despite his inability to keep a straight face, “Don’t do anything stupid.”

 

===

 

Maybe that was too much to ask. When Ocelot emerges, Miller’s got his back against the wall while Ruiz brandishes a handgun at him. Shit. It takes everything in him not to sprint over there. She turns around at the sound of Ocelot’s footsteps.

“Just what the hell do you think you’re _doing?_ ” he growls.

Ruiz’s eyes are wide. She lowers the gun.

He walks past her and slides a protective arm around Miller, his other hand ready on the handle of his revolver.

“I was showing pretty boy what he's dealing with,” she says.

“You point a weapon at him again and this deal won't see the light of day. I'll make sure to let everyone who deals in this area how _unprofessional_ your group is.”

“Fine.” Ruiz slinks off, defeated. Lucky for her she backed down immediately.

“I had that situation _under control._ She thought she could intimidate me and get a lower price. I'm used to it.”

“My apologies, from across the hall it looked like _you were being held at gunpoint._ ”

“ _Thanks, Ocelot._ ” he says, “I know we're supposed to be married or whatever but you looked about ready to go all KGB on her ass. Isn't that a bit much?”

“Nobody threatens my Benny.”

Ocelot leads the way back to the room. He pauses at the door. Campos’s voice leaks through the thin walls.

“They're trying to start over! Have you no heart?”

“Tell that to Mrs. Dugnutt,” Ruiz shoots back.

“Like them or not they're right. We don't have a whole lot of shots left at winning this and we need this deal to have a fighting chance.”

Ruiz sighs and Ocelot opens the door. They take their seats.

“Let's get this over with, I know y'all don't have all day,” Ocelot says.

“What you're asking for is a lot so we need ten thousand off that. We can't afford any more,” Campos says, with a hint of finality. “Diamond Dogs” still make a lot of money at that rate. Miller be damned. This is as good as it's gonna get.

“We'll take it,” Ocelot says, with a relieved smile.

“Ocelot-” protests Miller, before he realizes what he's saying. He goes red. Yeah, you screwed up big time. Sloppy. Disappointing, even. But not anything Ocelot can't handle. He addresses his clients' quizzical looks by turning to Miller.

“Honey… Not _now_ ,” he says, shaking his head. He turns to Campos and Ruiz, keeping his eyes low to effuse shame. “See, we have this, ah, what do you call it, roleplay where I-”

Ruiz is not above raising her voice. “I've heard _enough_. We accept your offer. We will give it to the Front’s leader and you will receive a phone call whether or not it's been accepted.” She grimaces when she shakes their hands. On their way out Campos hands Miller a note with the details of the hotel room he booked for them. He didn't even try to get that deducted from the price. Good.

According to Miller's calculations with the map, they're on their way to the hotel. “Hey, uh, good job on that save earlier. I don't know why I said that.”

“First rule of cover is very few things are more important than the cover. Especially not money. Letting greed blow your cover is an amateur mistake. You best learn fast. And maybe think before you choose such a… complicated story not discussed beforehand.”

“You say that like you weren't having a lot of fun with this.”

“It doesn't matter if I'm having fun if you fuck it all up and get yourself shot or worse.”

Miller refuses to be somber. “Well, we lived, didn't we? Yeah, I fucked up but the look on her face?” he laughs. “Completely worth it. And, God, that line about the diamond ring… you were fuckin’ amazing. You did good, _Bobson._ ”

“Thanks, _Sanders_.” Wait. That name is familiar from Ocelot’s research on American fast food. Oh my god. Is Miller serious? ”Did you name yourself after Colonel Sanders? The Kentucky Fried Chicken guy?”  

“It’s a secret. Just like the 11 herbs and spices.”

 

===

 

Campos must've found them a really safe town. The front desk clerk who checked them in stared wide-eyed at Ocelot's unconcealed revolvers.

Room 301. There it is. Ocelot pauses. “Can you go back to the front desk and get us new towels. I never trust the ones they start you with.”

Kaz huffs. “You couldn’t have thought of that when we were still down there?”

“It’s 3 flights of stairs, it won’t kill you.”

When Kaz comes back with the requested towels, he finds Ocelot in the doorway waiting.  
“Holy shit, you-” Ocelot puts a finger to his lips. Kaz complies but raises an eyebrow. Ocelot hands him a small note written in his neat handwriting. It reads “The room’s bugged. Stay in character.” Kaz nods. Where would they be without his spy bullshit, huh? Kaz notes there’s only one bed in the room. Queen-sized. Guess that was kind of inevitable given their cover story. Hope Ocelot doesn’t snore.

“Thanks for getting those fresh towels, honey! You know how I am about germs.” Ocelot breaks the silence.

“Of course! That’s why you’re always protecting yourself with those gloves!” Kaz pauses for a second and lets fear creep into his voice. “Speaking-- of--- germs. I think I just saw--- a cockroach. Some hotel this is…” He waits. “ _Oh god there it is again please kill it please._ ” He looks at Ocelot, eyebrows raised, _you catch my drift? Kill the bug for me, dear Bobby?_

“I’ll get it, darling. Where is it? Oh- I think I just saw it run under the bed. I can’t reach it down there. I’m sorry. If I see it again, I’ll make sure you never have to worry again.” He’s so sweet it’s disgusting. Ocelot shakes his head and shrugs. _No can do then, huh?_ Kaz hangs up the towels in the bathroom. The place is actually pretty clean but it’s not _implausible_ for him to see a roach.

Kaz climbs onto the bed. Might as well have fun with this stupid character situation. “Roaches can’t get me up here,” he coos.

Ocelot raises his eyebrows and shakes his head like _really?_ He sits down on the bed. “Now, sweetheart, let’s not get ahead of ourselves.” Kaz smirks back. _Feeling shy, Bobson?_ “I want to take a moment to appreciate how fortunate we’ve been… That the people of the Front are as good as giving us our money’s worth despite their hard times.” _You’d think kissing their asses too much would let them know we know they’re listening._ “I’m just thinking about how beautiful our wedding is going to be now that we can afford it… After we say our vows, I’ll take off your sunglasses like a veil and see deep in your beautiful eyes how much you mean it…” he trails off.

“And I’ll give you a real gold ring-” he laughs, “would you want it sized large so you can wear it over your gloves?” If he thinks he can escape from having his stupid gloves mocked just because we’re in character he’s _wrong_.

“Of course- I’d want to wear it proudly. Show the world how proud I am of us.” They’re both trying not to crack up at the visual of Ocelot wearing an oversized wedding band over his gloves.

“I’d wear a pristine white tux… Even though I’m… well, you know… less than pure. But, Bobby, you make me feel pure all over again,” Kaz says, choking back tears from suppressing laughter. He still manages to drop his voice an octave when he says, “like you were the first person who ever touched me…” and gives Ocelot his best half-lidded eyes. Ocelot looks away. _Coward._

“Uh, maybe I should get washed up. It was a pretty dusty car-ride all the way up here after all,” he says, gets up, and heads to the bathroom.

“Don’t drown, love,” Kaz calls after him.

Kaz hears the sound of running water. It’s pretty loud. But not loud enough for him to not hear Ocelot’s voice. “Honey, come and join me,” he says, playful. Is he fuckin’ kidding? Kaz walks over to the bathroom door and cracks it open. Ocelot’s voice is quiet now. “They can’t hear us over the sound of the shower. Come in.” Kaz obliges and immediately trips over Ocelot’s cowboy boots, placed conveniently right in the doorway.

“ _Fuck,”_ he says, catching himself on the sink. “They really can’t hear us?” He sees Ocelot’s hand pull aside the curtain slowly. Kaz’s hand flies to his aviators and he looks away. “Sorry. I’m gonna need another pair of sunglasses before I’m ready to look directly at your pale-as-fuck body without severe ocular damage.”

He hears Ocelot chuckle. “Why don’t you stop being useless and help me open this shampoo?”

He presents the bottle. Kaz takes it. It looks like a simple little bottle. All he has to do is twist off- well. Alright, this is harder to twist off than he expected. He grips the bottle and _twists_ with as much force as- _click._ The cap flies off, bounces off his forehead, and his death grip on the squeezable bottle gets shampoo all over his hand.

“Did you fucking rig that?” He throws the bottle in the general direction of the shower. Maybe it’ll hit him in the dick.

“Maybe.”

“Fuck your shower. I hope you get shampoo in your eyes.”

Kaz takes the two steps it takes to reach the toilet and flushes it

“ _Miller_ \--- That’s just _low,_ ” Ocelot says with the voice of someone who is getting boiled alive by the now-scalding shower water.

Kaz turns the door handle to leave.

“Take off your shoes first, _darling_ \- wouldn’t make sense for your footsteps to be that heavy,” Ocelot says, sickly sweet. Kaz sits on the toilet to take off his shoes and returns to the main room.

Fuck it, if he wants to play a game, so be it. Kaz shrugs off his jacket, loosens his tie, and unbuttons his shirt and relaxes on the bed. Help Ocelot get into character again. He smiles.

Ocelot opens the door. He’s wearing sand-colored silk pajamas with cacti, tumbleweeds, and lassos printed all over. Of fucking _course_ he has Western-themed PJs. It’s _almost_ adorable.

But it’s time for business now. “ _Mmm_ , all clean now,” Kaz purrs, “C’mere, cowboy.”

“ _Miller_ ,” Ocelot says. _What the fuck?_ And Kaz is the stupid one for slipping up with the names earlier?

“I, ah, don’t think they have that brand of beer in this hotel, sweetheart… We could look- but, I’d rather you just-”

Ocelot is cackling now.

“ _What the fuck?”_ Kaz is going to need about 5 explanations for whatever is happening here.

“Oh my god, you should see the look on your face… The room isn’t really bugged, I made that up.”

“ _Fuck you._ ”

“Looks like you were about ready to. Button up that shirt, it’s indecent.”

God, the _nerve_ . And he thinks Kaz will trust his “spy expertise” again, well, tough shit. Kaz re-buttons the shirt. Ocelot didn’t _deserve_ to see that. He moves to sit on the bed. Kaz rolls to block him.

“Asshole liars sleep on the _floor._ ”

“Don’t fight me, Miller. You’ll lose.”

“ _Floor._ ”

Ocelot pulls some bullshit judo move and flips Kaz to the other side of the bed. Before Kaz can do anything, Ocelot is sitting with his back against the headboard with his legs stretched out. His smile is smug. “You gonna try that again or _behave?_ ” Kaz sighs. Sometimes asshole liars get to sleep on the bed, apparently.

When they actually get to sleeping, Kaz is surprised to hear Ocelot’s rhythmic breaths almost immediately. So much for Superspy Who Never Sleeps. Kaz turns out the light on his side and lays down.

He wakes up shivering. He looks over to his left and _of course_ , Ocelot is serenely nestled in _every single blanket on the bed_ . Of fucking course. It’s time to take back _every single blanket on the bed._ Wild West rules, motherfucker.

 

===

 

Ocelot wakes up warm, comfortable, and the most rested he’s felt in... well, probably years. This hotel has _really_ comfortable beds, he thinks, until he wakes up some more. He opens his eyes. _Oh._ Miller’s arms are wrapped lazily around him. This is… okay, he guesses. It’s cozy. He has _no commentary_ on how Miller’s soft breaths feel on the back of his neck. He figures his tendency to never be warm enough at night must have caused him to seek out the nearest heat source and well, Miller did the rest, apparently. He closes his eyes again. This is _okay._

Miller stirs and makes a little humming sound. It’s cute. Ocelot’s eyes snap back open when he pulls him closer and he feels Miller’s soft lips on his neck. _Is this really happening?-_

He’s interrupted by Miller, who he assumes just opened his eyes. “Ocelot?!” Ocelot hears a thud. Wow. Rolled off the entire bed. That bad?

“You’re _Russian_ . How the hell do you tolerate _Russia_ if you’re so cold in this climate-controlled hotel room you have to steal all the blankets?” Miller’s already up and at it.

“At least _I’m_ not the one rubbing myself all over the nearest warm body,” Ocelot retorts.

Miller looks him over and shrugs. “If I have to be honest, you’re _far from_ the worst person I could wake up accidentally spooning.”

“What’s _that supposed to mean?_ ” Ocelot gets up from the bed and starts to make his way to the bathroom. “Whatever, I’m _taking a shower._ ”

“Don’t use all the hot water, asshole!”

Don’t worry, Miller. This shower will be cold, like Russian winter, to banish thoughts.  

 

===

 

Kaz finishes up his extensive haircare routine and opens the bathroom door to find Ocelot huddled in a mess of blankets on the bed. Alright. It’s cute. Cat burrito. Guess he’s still cold for some reason. The phone rings. Ocelot emerges from his nest and picks it up.

“Hello? … Yes! Alright.” He turns away from the receiver. “Honey, it’s for you!”

Kaz takes the phone. He hears a voice he recognizes as Campos. “They approved it. The transaction should go through in the next 7-10 days.”

“It was a pleasure to do business with you again.”

“Same to you. I wish you and your fiance the best of luck in your new beginning.” Damn, he almost feels bad for ripping the guy off.

“Thanks, and the same to you with your endeavors in, ah, defeating capitalism.” That got a good laugh. They say their goodbyes and Kaz hangs up the phone.

Holy shit. They made it. He picks up Ocelot off the bed, bridal-style, and spins him around, beaming. “We did it! We got the deal! Amazing job!” As he dips him and leans in to kiss him, he realizes what he’s doing and puts him down. “I… guess I got a little too in-character there. Sorry about that.”

Ocelot is on his feet. Kaz waits for the roast he rightly deserves but instead, he finds Ocelot’s eyes fixed on him and what _appears to be_ a genuine smile. Ocelot puts his hands on Kaz’s shoulders and pushes him down to a seated position on the bed. His voice is low.

“Kazuhira…” he climbs into Kaz’s lap, straddling him, “when will you learn…” he trails his fingers down Kaz's jawline to his chin, “...that method acting is dangerous?” Oh, so Boss’s kitty finally made up his mind, huh? It's _about time._ He’ll take it. But without the lecture. He grabs Ocelot’s scarf and pulls him closer.  

“Shut the fuck up, Bobson,” Kaz breathes against Ocelot’s lips before enforcing his words with a kiss.

 

===========================

Fanart of Cowsplaining from my friend OwlLight! Find him on twitter [here](https://twitter.com/OcelotsNose/)  
  


he also did art of the last scene :3


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